The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported, however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.

What You'll Find Here

Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark

Black Market

Just like any city - Sacrosanct is not without it's deep, dark underbelly. Hidden in the graffiti-ridden streets of the West, behind closed warehouse doors, lies the Black Market. Forever moving, it's nearly impossible to find without knowing someone who knows someone. Anything you desire can be brought for a hefty price within the Black Market - be it drugs, weapons, or lives.

What You'll Find Here

Edge of the Circle

Cull & Pistol

Hidden within the dark alleyways of the Western Ward, Cull & Pistol is a dim, often smoky bar. With a small variety of bottled and craft beers, Cull & Pistol is a quaint little neighborhood joint. With its no-frills moto, the dingy bar offers little more than liquor, music from an old jukebox, and a few frequently occupied pool tables.

Noah's Ark

Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark (known simply as The Ark) is a sleek superyacht known both for its fight rings and recent...renovations, of sorts. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar. Note: This is a Were only establishment. All other species will be swiftly escorted out.
Home of: Nightshade

Owner Aiden Tetradore

Co-owner Tobias Cain
Manager Raven Cain
Bar Manager Mira Ramos
Bartender Henry Tudor
Waitress Carolina Bedford


Within the turbulent industrial district lies this club. The warehouse doesn't look like much on the outside but it provides a memorable experience from the state of the art lighting, offbeat Victorian-inspired artwork, comfortable black leather lounges, and the infamous 'black light' room. There is a wide variety of alcohol that lines the shelves of both of the magical and ordinary variety. It is a common stomping ground for the supernatural who want to let loose and dance the night away to the music that floods the establishment. Humans are most welcome if they dare.

Owner Risque Voth

Manager Darcy Blackjack
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward

we're always sleeping in, sleeping for the wrong team

Posted on February 27, 2020 by Darcy Blackjack

Darcy's mismatched gaze was ill-inclined to shift away from that imprisoned Fae. Risque, after all, seemed almost...obsessed with her gift and yet- not in the fashion the Southern Vampire had anticipated. He had seen her blood lust before in its fullest glory. Indeed it was her desire to see the Fae bleed that the man had anticipated would present itself now. She would toy with her gift of course, she always did and yet in the end she would still feast upon that red liquid within. Perhaps, were her mood good enough, seh might even permit him to have what she left behind and yet she seemed near....taken with that Fae man. Her behaviour was nothing short of obscure. Indeed his mate acted almost as if she knew the man- somehow. Darcy, in those ever precarious moments in which that jealousy so threatened to rise within his throat like bile, so hardly took his gaze away from his lover and that gift. His jaw set firm in some faint display of displeasure and yet, for now at least, that displeasure so gaze way to a near wary confusion. Near two centuries he had walked at his beloved Mistress' side and he had never seen her behave quite this way before. That very newness to her nature was unsettling. Darcy inclined to be as wary of it as he was intrigued.

His insistence that no other had yet touched that Fae seemed to bring his lover no small amount of pleasure as a simper danced upon her lips. Those French lyrics she offered the terrified Fae only further coaxing at the confusion that marred Darcy's own features before the sudden -bang- of an exploding balloon saw both vampires whirl with inhuman speed to face the source of that perceived assault. Tetradore. That fucking moron of a cat hissed and spat his outrage at those black balloons. The mere sight of him readily coaxed a growl from Darcy's own lips, those words nothing short of scathing- until the sound of Risque's laughter abruptly silenced him. His own irritation hurriedly inclined to flee in that wake of the surprise that momentarily found his features- before the vampiric cowboy hurriedly attempted to force a chuckle from his own lips. One that seemed to do little more than earn an eye roll from Tetradore. Oh how he loathed that cat. Risque, in her amusement, commanded the panther to continue with that display of balloon popping. Darcy, for now, satisfied enough in that veritable punishment as the hapless Were was forced to carry out his Mistress' request. Hmm. Maybe it was amusing to watch Tetradore suffer even at something so mundane as balloons.

Even that enjoyment however was so destined to be short lived as that Fae took that moment to attempt his escape, the man fleeing that cage only to race across the room and head toward the door. The very sharpness of that moment prompted both vampires to turn once more, Risque's command to fetch back her gift so barely free of her lips before Darcy moved. Tetradore's leash was hurriedly tied to that rack, the panther momentarily freed of his balloon based assault as Darcy's vampiric speed saw the man move like a veritable blur to ensnare that Fae once more. The man struggled in vain, his wild flailing prompting his limbs to kick out at Tetradore as Darcy all but hauled him past and back toward Risque. The vampiric cowboy content to force the man's arms behind his back, his free hand grasping the Fae's hair at the back of his head to better restrain him for his mistress to view. That scent of fear was pungent within the room. His own predatory instincts responded eagerly to that very scent he could near taste and the frantic, wild beating of the Fae's heart. That saliva rushed to fill his own mouth, coating his teeth and tongue in anticipation even if, he suspected, Risque might deny him any taste of that gift- as was surely her right. It was her birthday, after all. She alone that dominant vampire within Syn and indeed the only being Darcy himself was so willing to yield such a meal too.

Tetradore, as if desiring a better view, leapt up and onto the rack as Risque leaned all the closer to her victim. That very act so seemed to prompt the Fae to struggle all over again, Darcy content to offer the fool a swift, sharp jerk along with that command to stay still before so wrenching his head back all the more to expose those veins of the Fae's neck. Presenting that merchandise, after all, was nothing short of critical. Risque so having taught him years ago just how she desired those victims be held and offered. The Vampiric Queen eyed her gift then, her gaze narrowed in clear contemplation as Darcy's gaze searched her own features for but any hint of displeasure. Risque so seeming to eye that Fae far more critical then she did most. The woman so suddenly insisted that he was not to escape this time. This time? Darcy's own features frowned once more, his mismatched gaze so briefly shifting toward Tetradore in some effort to gauge some recognition from the Panther in turn. Risque's words near indicating.....she knew that Fae and yet the man hardly seemed to recognise her at all.

"Yar know 'im?"

The chances of his having managed to acquire a Fae that had escaped Risque in the past were near....miniscule. No being, after all, so every truly escaped his lover if she did not desire it so. The Fae's renewed struggling momentarily drew his attention once more, Darcy's hands holding him all the more firmly only for Risques own hand to lift and strike the Fae sharply across the face. That very strike slashed at the skin, that blood flowing readily to the surface then. The scent was nothing short of intoxicating. Darcy, in that moment, inclined to forget his own curiosity in just who that Fae was. Rather, his thoughts fixated upon that scent alone. That desire to bite was all but overwhelming, the vampire near forced to clench shut his jaw. Risque would not permit a disobedience so great as biting her birthday gift without express permission. To mar that creatures skin before she had been given the chance was near akin to sacrilege. Even that scent of that blood was not enough, not now, to coax the cowboy into defying his lovers dominance. Risque's very promise to rip out the man's tongue seemed to prompt the Fae into silence as he fingers pinched at his face before a single talon-like nail was drawn down and over that already bleeding wound, his lover applying just enough pressure to cut into that flesh and prompt that blood to flow all the more. God that scent.

The vampiric cowboy was forced to swallow in turn, Darcy so hardly desiring to take his eyes away from that glorious red liquid as it ran so hot and thick down the man's face and yet how readily he could begin to feel his own control begin to draw desperately thin. Was she even aware of how she....tormented him with that scent? Did she have any idea what she truly asked in demanding he restrain that Fae while she let him bleed mere inches from his own fangs? The sound of Darcy's teeth grinding over one another so momentarily echoed within that small space as Risque continued her slow, torturous examination of her prize. Her fingers released the man with near the same suddenness she had grasped him with, only to lift those bloodied appendages to her own lips and sample tha flavour. Darcy, in that moment, inclined to watch with a near perverse fascination in turn as that saliva continued to pool in his own mouth and run down his throat. How quickly that look of blood lust seemed to overtake his mate. Fae blood, beyond any other, so eternally having that very effect upon their species and yet- Risque was quick to reach for that control once more. His lover near oblivious, it seemed, to the fascination with which he watched her lick that blood from her lips in desperate want.

Risque's hand shot forward once more to grasp that Fae by the collar, the sad little man crying out in terror as the buttons from his shirt came loose. Darcy was already aware of what his lover intended at that moment. Her gaze roved over the Fae's chest and body then. Darcy content to study her own features once more. The vampire so forced back that growl of irritation that threatened to rise in the back of his throat at her....eyeing another man. Even one so hardly attractive enough to rival him for anything save taste. Risque reached for a knife then, one plucked from the wall with ease and so designed to work upon Fae flesh alone. Silver, after all, so hardly seemed to affect the Fae as it did so many other races. Iron by far the most efficient tool. His clothing fell away with ease at each expert stroke of that blood, Darcy willing enough to assist by manipulating that man's body as needed. His lover, perhaps mercifully for them all, leaving that Fae's boxer shorts in place. None of them, it seemed, holding any desire to see more of that man then was already displayed.

Risque pressed that knife to that very place beneath the Fae's boxer shorts that would surely prompt a reaction in any man. The Fae so desperately tried to scramble away before his lover dragged that blade upward with meticulous care. How wildly that man's heart beat and fluttered in frantic distress! Darcy simply incapable of denying the pleasure he took from those screams and pungent fear. Those predatory instincts within himself relished that very thing. How he would enjoy it if that Fae ran again. Something to chase, something to bite, something to kill. Those animalistic desires sso eagerly tugged at his own mind. Risque plunged that knife into the Fae's shoulder then, those screams reaching a fever pitch before that blood all but poured from the wound. God. Darcy could hardly prevent that near groan of want that coiled within his own throat, though whether or not Risque had heard it over the screams of the man remained to be seen. Darcy forced to clamp his jaw closed once more as his mistress lifted that blade to her tongue only to lick one side clean. The sudden, sharp utterance of his name drew the southern vampires attention swiftly, obediently upward. Risque so suddenly demanding he taste that blood. For a single, precarious moment the vampire near hesitated as if seeking some ruse in that very action. That Risque would share even a drop of that blood was near surprising and yet her command remained all the same. The unfortunate Fae was momentarily shifted within his hands, the man now sobbing pitifully as Darcy leaned forward to allow his tongue to brush that blade Risque held forward and pressed to his lips.

A distinct rumble of pleasure echoed from within his own chest at that taste. The blood thick and rich and sweet and fucking glorious. It was so fresh, so hot, god how he wanted more of it. That desire to reach for the blade so prompting the barest twitch within his hand before that desire was hurriedly silenced. Risque suddenly demanded to know what he tasted. Her words coiled and poised like a snare set to trap him. What did he taste? His tongue pressed to the top of his mouth then, the vampire savouring that taste, spreading it about his mouth searching for those individual distinct tastes until one seemed to strike him near pontently, a distinct after taste he was assured he would know anywhere. A taste he knew Risque knew in turn he so disliked. His entire face near seeming to scrunch with that aftertaste, one he was assured he would hardly have noticed were it not for Risque so demanding he sort those very tastes upon his tongue. Darcy, in that moment, appeared near childlike as his tongue flicked from his lips in an effort to remove that taste.

"Nawww yar know I 'ate fuckin' bannanas."

Surely she had known that was the taste, hadn't she? Darcy eyeing her with a momentary discord before his attention shifted back to that bloodied wound. That aftertaste or not he was near assured he would still drain every drop of blood from that Fae. So much of it simply being...wasted upon the floor. Risque turned toward Tetradore then, her fingers reaching to run through his fur as she demanded Darcy bind that Fae to the rack. His mistress desiring to see her new toy in action.

"As yar wish, Darlin'."

Darcy moved with ease then to half carry, half drag that sobbing Fae over to that rack. The man hardly difficult to lift in any sense and yet....that blood was getting on Darcy himself. That desire to lick it from himself equally as potent. Risque released Tetradore's leash then as Darcy laid that man upon the table, the panther, in the very least, providing a helpful weight to keep that Fae held down as Darcy moved to fancy his arms and legs with efficient, vampiric speed. The fashion in which Tetradore seemed to...stare at that Fae not unlike Risque herself.

"What are you fuckin' staring at 'im for?"

Those very words were snapped upon a near hiss towards the panther. Darcy's temper, when so surrounded by that blood and that desire to hunt a decidedly...short fuse. Darcy, for now, restraining that urge to send the panther flying if only because it would displease his lover. With that Fae firmly secured the vampire moved to step obediently back to his lovers side, the cloying scent of the blood upon his own clothing so horribly distracting.

We are rough men and used to rough ways.